


Tell me now, how do I feel

by feralpixiedreamgirl



Category: Malcolm in the Middle
Genre: Brother/Brother Incest, Choking, Hand Job, I spent the day of the lord writing this, M/M, Violence, beta reading is for people with morals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26817136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralpixiedreamgirl/pseuds/feralpixiedreamgirl
Summary: Malcolm really likes Reese's arms. And also the way he is willing to hurt him.
Relationships: Malcolm/Reese (Malcolm in the Middle)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 69





	Tell me now, how do I feel

Somewhere around the time Malcolm turns 13 and puberty finally hits him at full force Reese stops wearing long-sleeved shirts.

It’s Malcolm’s downfall.

He hadn’t really noticed before how grown-up his older brother already looks, how he now really towers over him, how his arms have gotten more defined, a vein clearing visible under the skin, making its way over his right upper arm, whenever the muscle is pulled tight (usually because he’s ready to punch Malcolm in the face).

If the times Malcolm steals away to the bathroom, hoping nobody will care that he’s gone, get more frequent after that realization, then that’s really none of anybody’s business. No one will ever have to find out that he just can’t stop fantasizing about feeling those strong arms around him, either pressing down on his windpipe, impeding his breathing, or against his back in a comforting embrace (to his dick it doesn’t make a lick of difference).

And besides, it’s only normal to get a bit confused at his age, he tells the reflection of his flushed face when he splashes it with water afterwards, the self-loathing threatening to pull him under.

His ‘confusion’ gets a little perilous for him though as it keeps on impelling him to push Reese’s buttons (he knows them all too well) till Reese pushes back in turn; Reese relying on his superior strength (just like Malcolm expects him to). Now there is not a day that doesn’t end with Malcolm examining his bruises. And if he finds the time for himself, he presses the heel of his left hand into them while his right one moves hard and fast on his leaking cock. On these occasions his mind is always a swirl of violence, nothing but Reese and his brutality, no matter how hard he tries to push back against the images. If he’s honest with himself, that fight is already lost as soon as he pulls up his shirt to look at Reese’s handiwork.

On one day in June, when you can already feel the heat very clearly, but the worst of summer is yet to come, Malcolm finally pushes Reese over the edge. They have been trading insults back and forth all day and in the end Malcolm doesn’t really know where he went too far, all he knows is that he ends up against the wall of the corridor that leads to the bedrooms with a framed family picture painfully pushing into his back and Reese’s hand painfully holding him by the throat. Only his tiptoes are still on the floor, his breath is something thin and delicate, barely there, and his brain gets fuzzy fast.

It’s probably exactly that lack of oxygen that makes him grab for Reese’s arms.

He clasps Reese’s bicep with his right hand, enclosing the muscle as best as he is able to, gently follows the vein up his arm with the tip of his forefinger of his left hand to where it vanishes right under his shoulder.

Reese lets go of him like he’s been burned.

Malcolm’s legs nearly buckle under his weight. As he finds his footing again, the picture frame slides down, the glass breaking on the floor with an ugly ‘crack’.

Reese stares at him, his eyes wild. Malcolm stares right back. He feels a bit wild, too.

With a hoarse voice, a mouth like a desert and a rabbit’s heart, he asks: “Why did you stop?”

Reese looks like something fractures inside of him. His brow furrows in a way that gives him the expression of someone that is about to cry. Still, he steps in closer, the glass audibly splintering even further under his foot.

His right hand finds Malcolm’s throat immediately, just like his left one finds the bulge in Malcolm’s pants. As he puts on gentle pressure with the one, he rubs harshly with the other.

It’s painful and overwhelming, and when he latches on to Reese’s arms a second time it’s mostly to steady himself. The edges blur and he is aware of his blood moving through his veins pulse by pulse, reverberating in his head.

Reese’s skin feels soft under his touch, the muscle hard. Even though he knows he will faint if they keep this up, he is not afraid. Because he also knows that Reese will hold him up, keep him safe, prevent anything bad from happening to him.

Anything bad that isn’t Reese himself that is.

As the pleasure builds in his belly, Reese darkens in front of him. He thinks Reese’s hand on his crotch is moving faster, stroking him harder, but he can’t be sure. Reality smears like a stain and he holds on tight, as everything, both pleasure and pain, finally crash into him like a wave, drowning him in darkness.

  
When he comes to, he is being cradled in Reese’s arms and his throat aches like never before. As soon as he moves to inspect it with his fingers, Reese releases him in favor of holding him by his shoulders, as if to examine him.

There are wet streaks and red blotches on both his cheeks.

Malcolm gives him a smile, shrugs.

Reese takes his face into his hands and kisses him, softly.

**Author's Note:**

> live fast die young bad girls do it well
> 
> come follow me on [tumblr](http://feral-pixiedreamgirl.tumblr.com) to watch me make a fool of myself.


End file.
